La Reine Blanche
by kellycc23
Summary: Starts after season 1 finale. Mary/Francis, Mary/Bash, Bash/Kenna, Francis/Lola. Multiple POVs. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Mary was using all of her inner strength to maintain her outward composure. She knew how she had to appear - strong, defiant, and with no regrets. She was not only Queen of Scotland, she was now also Queen of France, and she had a duty to protect the French people. It was the same duty Francis had - though he had chosen to ignore this, and so the responsibility fell to her.

Mary watched for as long as she could as Francis ran off - until he finally faded into the French countryside. He had shown little hesitation to go to Lola. Of course, it was at Mary's urgings that he do so, but she couldn't help feeling slightly hurt at his rush to go. And his adamance to go, even once the news of plague had come, hurt her the most. Francis was willing to risk his life, as the King of France, as well the lives of those around him, so that he could be with Lola.

Lola did need help - she was in the midst of a birth, which, by the tone of her letters, seemed difficult to say the least. Regardless of what had happened, Mary did not want her dear friend to die. But could Francis really prevent that from happening? He was not a midwife, nor a doctor. He had gone to her simply to be comforting, so that she would know the father of her child was close by as she struggled.

Finally, Mary turned her gaze, slowly making her way back into the castle. There was nothing further she could do for Francis - she had to focus on her people at Court. Once uttered, the word "plague" drove a fear like none other into men's hearts. Worse than war, everyone knew, plague came unexpected and quickly, and it spared no one.

She came upon Catherine first, who was waiting anxiously for news of what had transpired. Her face fell as soon as she saw Mary, walking back alone.

"I take it Francis has gone, then?" Catherine asked simply, wishing that she was wrong in her assumptions.

Mary took a breath, not wanting to admit that she could not convince him to stay. "Indeed, he has gone to Lola…" she trailed off, realizing Catherine did not know about Lola's predicament.

"Lola? Is she not with her new husband in the countryside?"

Mary shook her head, slowly. The last thing she wanted was for Catherine to find out about Francis and Lola. She thought Catherine was so far sympathetic to Mary's issues with conceiving, as Catherine herself had become pregnant immediately. But Mary could not help feeling anxious about the fact that Lola's womb had quickened with child on just one try, making her think that the problem was with her. And this was not a thought that Mary wanted to put into Catherine's mind.

Still, it had come to the point where she could not lie about it. Catherine had the right to know, just as she decided Francis had the right to know.

Mary gathered that inner strength once more, looking Catherine straight in the eye. "Francis is the father of Lola's child, a child that is being born - or trying to be born - this very moment, in the village. Sadly, her husband has died, so Lola is alone. Francis has gone to be with her, to help her through."

Catherine, clearly stunned, brought her hand to her chest to try to gather her composure. From the interactions within the castle, there was no reason to believe that Francis and Lola had ever had a relationship of any sort, let alone sleep together.

"I… don't know what to say," Catherine struggled, clearly unsure of how to proceed with the news. "I suppose I know how you feel, my dear. This seems to be quite the same thing I went through with Diane. She had her first child before I had mine, as well."

It was exactly what Mary did not want to hear. Her worst fear was that Lola would become a permanent fixture in Francis's life - and how could she not, bearing his first living child? Francis could become attached to her, as was only natural. And Mary could very well become just like Catherine.

Exhausted by these thoughts, Mary couldn't go on speaking any longer. "Please excuse me, your grace, I must prepare to address everyone shortly to let them know what has happened. I'd like to freshen up first."

It was her way of escaping the conversation, on a topic which she did not want to explore any further. She began by quickly walking back into the main halls of the castle, avoiding gazes by looking at her feet rather than ahead of her. She feared that her tears would spring forward at any moment, and the last thing she wanted was to betray her own weakness.

Though she tried to maintain a calm composure, her quick steps eventually turned to a run, as her impatience crept up. She wanted to be alone, and she cursed the large size of the castle which prevented her from getting to her chambers quickly. No doubt she was passing many concerned faces, but she didn't much care, as long as they did not see her completely break down.

She looked up for brief seconds at a time, in order to ensure she was headed in the right direction. Her heart leapt as she was about to turn the corner for her chambers, and she took the turn sharply, as a sort of race to the finish. As she was expecting to be within near seconds of thrusting open her door, she was completely unprepared for the collision that followed. She knocked straight into another person, sending her flying to the ground, a result of her speed upon impact.

She let out a small cry, more from the shock than as a consequence of any pain she felt on hitting the ground. She didn't have time to look up at the human obstacle before he bent down to her to check the damage.

"Mary! My god, you seemed to come out of nowhere. Are you all right?"

She sighed in relief at the voice she knew so well, thankful that it wasn't some lord who would run in alarm to Catherine that the newly Queen of France was acting rather strangely by running through the hallways in distress. She looked up and smiled weakly at Bash's concerned look.

"I am all right, Bash, just ashamed. I should not have rounded the corner so quickly," she replied, attempting to rise. She felt like a right idiot lying on the floor in front of him.

She winced slightly as she leaned on her elbow, which had apparently taken the brunt of the impact.

"Let me help you - I don't want you further injuring yourself," Bash said, offering an arm to help Mary back to her feet. Her cheeks went red, not remembering the last time they had touched. As she gripped his arm, she couldn't help the memories of their kisses from seeping into her consciousness.

Once they had both risen, she clung to him for a moment longer than necessary. It was her own vulnerability which was dictating her actions, she knew.

"Mary, is something wrong? You seem rather out of sorts. And why were you running through the halls? I could hear your approach even before you rounded the corner."

Mary hesitated - she was still clinging to his arm, though Bash did not seem at all bothered. She wanted to just shake it off, assuring him that she was just late for a meeting with someone of Francis's advisors, and move along into the solace of her chambers and her own thoughts. But her heart wanted comfort. She wanted to confide everything to Bash - to vent her frustrations, to seek his advice, and, above all, to gain some comfort.

As Mary looked up into his eyes, there seemed to be only one way forward. "I… I just locked the gates. And Francis rode off. He can't come back. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen. He just went to her. He can't come back!" she said hysterically, her voice rising with every admission.

Bash's face changed from one of concern to one of alarm, and he slowly ushered her toward to door of her chambers. "Come, let's sit down and get you some wine… and then we can talk."


	2. Chapter 2

Lola's screams permeated the small cottage. She had lost count of how long she had felt her labor pains, but she knew it had been far too long. Her contractions were coming closer and closer together, which her hostess, Beatrice, had told her meant the baby was trying to come into this world. But that was the end of the comforting words. Beatrice was clear with her that this did not seem like it would be an easy birth, and she herself had no skill in delivering babies. The local midwife was not coming. Lola was virtually alone.

Her only hope was that Mary would send help. Surely she could at least send Nostradamus, whose skill in medicine would provide great comfort to her. But she estimated it had been over two hours now, at least, since she had sent her letter, and there was no sign of any assistance.

Beatrice tried to provide some physical comfort, wiping Lola's brow as she tilted her head upward to scream. She had tried to be reserved with her pain at first, desperately not wanting to frighten her hostess, but she had lost all will to be decorous hours ago, when the pains had turned to be particularly sharp.

A heavy knock sounded at the door, and Lola thought she might be hallucinating. Could help have really come? She was doubtful, but Beatrice had clearly heard the knock too, as she rose from Lola's side to answer the door.

Lola used all her strength to sit up slightly to see who had come. She questioned her own mind once again when she saw Francis walk through the door.

He went straight to her, without taking a second glance at Beatrice. "Lola… my god, are you all right? We received your letter at the castle and I came as quickly as I could."

Lola stared at Francis, not believing that he was really there. "Francis… you've come. Did Mary tell you…" she trailed off, not knowing how to ask the question.

Francis nodded, taking Lola's hand in his own. "I can't believe you kept this secret from me this whole time. You should have told me!" he nearly yelled, but thought better of starting an argument. "Anyway, none of that matters now. I'm here to help in whatever way I can."

Lola winced, managing to stifle another scream as a contraction came on. She squeezed Francis's hand, grateful for a friendly face to help her through her pain. But then it dawned on her… no one was with him.

"Did you not bring Nostradamus? Or a midwife?"

Francis closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "There has been an outbreak of plague in the village, and they have closed the castle gates. I only just made it out in time, but we could not allow anyone else to leave, for they would not be allowed to return."

Lola stared straight ahead, trying to process what she had just been told. No one was allowed to leave… but Francis did. How could Mary have let him venture into a village that was ravaged by plague?

"But… but you left. How could Mary let you? You're the Dauphin of France. You can't just ride out into a village that is currently beset by plague!"

In the background, Beatrice gasped at the dark word: plague. "Plague! This must be why the midwife could not come - she has been afflicted! How do I know you have not brought the plague here yourself?" She yelled, and then, suddenly remembering herself, "if you don't mind me asking, your royal highness."

"I have rode straight here from the castle, there is little chance that I have brought plague, madame. And to answer your question, Lola, Mary did not want me to leave. She begged me to stay. But… I couldn't leave you alone. My duty is to protect the people of France, and you are one of those people."

Lola did not know what to say to Francis's proclamation. Surely her relationship with Mary would now be ruined forever, if she were to survive this ordeal. Before she could respond, Francis spoke up again.

"And I suppose it is my duty to inform you that my father has died… I am now King of France," Francis nearly choked out the words, as if he did not want to admit it to himself.

Beatrice immediately sunk to the ground in a bow to Francis, letting out a small "your majesty" as she did so. Lola was in shock, though her contraction pains had started again, saving her from having to say anything further.

Francis turned to Beatrice, reaching out his arms to raise her up to standing. "Please, there is no midwife, and I obviously have no experience in bringing children into this world. Have you given birth yourself? We must work together to help my lady in any way we can."

Though Beatrice had been quite blunt about the direness of Lola's situation before, she suddenly changed tunes in knowing that she was addressing the King of France. "Of course, your majesty. I helped my sister give birth, and will do whatever I can to help the lady along. I should warn you though - she has been in labor for too long already. I fear this will not be an easy birth, and both mother and child are at risk."

Francis winced at this, and Lola noticed the pain visible on his face at the sign that death could come knocking at this door. She felt momentarily touched. Though she was unsure how much help both Francis and Beatrice would be, at least she had a close friend by her side.

Beatrice prepared boiling water and began ripping cloths in a nearby corner, while Francis removed his riding cloak and knelt by her side. Lola tried to smile at him, through her discomfort. She was not only in pain, but also slightly embarrassed that he would witness what was about to take place. She had never seen a childbirth herself, but she understood that it was a messy business.

"We're going to get through this. Together. I don't want you think that you will ever be alone in this, Lola," Francis said, staring into Lola's eyes with true sincerity. Lola knew that he meant beyond just the birthing itself.

Taking advantage of her moment in between contractions, Lola decided to speak frankly to Francis. "Francis, I don't want to become a burden for you and Mary. I don't want to be in the way. All I ask is that I can retire to somewhere in the country, where I can raise the child on my own," she said, and, as she felt the sharp pain return once again, added "that is, if we both survive this."

"Don't say that," Francis said, almost frantically. "You'll get through this… and we will decide together how best to raise our child."

It sounded strange to her, "our" - but she couldn't deny that it made her feel better. It's not that she wanted to be alone with a child, but her guilt over the whole situation was constantly nagging her. It would be my punishment to be alone, she thought.

Beatrice returned then, setting her boiling water and rags at the foot of the bed, and she indicated that it was time for her to take a look at how far long Lola really was.

Lola nodded, hesitating, for how much did this stranger really know about birthing? Even so, it was better than nothing, so she allowed her to reach under her dress and to her most intimate spot to examine her.

Beatrice nodded, saying that things were looking better than expected. "She is dilated as much as she should be… it shouldn't be long now. As long as the baby is not breech, all should go according to plan."

Lola let out a sigh of relief, a breath that she felt she had been holding since the labor pains started. She might just get her child after all. It was a strange feeling, for she hadn't done much thinking about the actual baby - she had been too busy thinking about the predicament she was in, the problems that this baby was causing. Now that he or she was almost here, it dawned on her that she was about to become a mother. Beyond that, she was about to become the mother of the King's first child.

Beatrice motioned that it was time for Lola to begin pushing. The time was here. Francis immediately offered Lola his hand once more, and she took it gratefully. The pains increased, and Lola did all she could to push, as Beatrice had instructed. This was it. She wanted this baby now more than anything, and so she braced herself, agreeing to take on whatever pain was necessary to bring her and Francis's child into the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: First, thank you SO much to everyone who has reviewed so far! You are truly motivating me to keep writing! This is my first fanfic so your comments mean a lot! Second, I have purposely not revealed whether this is a "Mash" or "Frary" story - I want to keep you in suspense! It's more fun that way, I promise ;-) **

Bash wasn't sure what he was thinking as he led Mary into her chambers and softly closed the door behind them. Maybe he wasn't thinking at all. But the anguish on Mary's face was real, and he couldn't ignore that. Too much had passed between them for him to ignore her pain.

He guided her to the settee in the middle of the room, careful not to stand too close, or to touch her unnecessarily. It was easy for him to be sucked in by her, to forget everything else and do whatever it took to please her. But, this time, Kenna's image burned in his mind. Their marriage was not what either of them had wanted at the time, but their love had now just begun to blossom. Bash had told her so earlier that evening - that he loved her. She had brought him out of such a dark place. He had been devastated for so many reasons - the love of his life deserting him, having the crown snatched from his hands, just when he had started getting used to the idea of being King. And, perhaps worst of all, being virtually abandoned by his family. His mother had left, his father hated him, and his brother constantly eyed him with suspicion. It was unsurprising, after all that had happened.

But then Kenna was thrust upon him, and she was coming from a similarly dark place. They had supported each other, loved each other, so that Kenna was now a truly bright light in his life.

Bash swiftly poured a goblet of wine for Mary, suddenly torn from his thoughts about Kenna into a deja vu situation - his mind went back to the first time Mary had kissed him.

"It's funny," he began, handing Mary the wine, which she was quick to gulp, "I find I can't help being brought back to another time where I was handing you wine to calm you down."

He had said it with a lightness, in an effort to calm the mood and lift Mary's spirits, but she just gazed at him, looking utterly at a loss for words. His joke had clearly gone a bit awry, it looked almost as if he had scared her.

He checked himself. "Not to worry, I think we've both learned enough that we can now talk without… without… err, you know…" he trailed off, awkwardly. He felt like banging his head against a wall - why did he ever think it would be a good idea to bring up their past?

Mary blinked then, seemingly bringing herself back to reality. "It's fine, Bash, I'm afraid it's just that my mind is all over the place at the moment. I'm being pulled in all different directions. I hardly know how to even start talking to you."

Bash nearly reached out to grab her hand then, but thought better of it. Instead he sat back, and tried to help her express her thoughts. "Well, let's start at the beginning, I suppose. You said you've locked the gates?"

Mary nodded, taking another long gulp of wine before she began. "There are reports of plague in the village… we need to protect the castle."

Bash's eyes went wide. Plague. It was exactly as the old crone had said - this was the punishment being brought about by the darkness. There could be little doubt of this. Still, he felt it best to keep this from Mary… she clearly had other things troubling her, and learning that he was somewhat responsible for this pestilence was the last thing she probably wanted to hear.

"And… I take it Francis has gone, as you said? What did you mean when you said he went to 'her'?"

At this, Mary bent her head, tears prickling her eyes. Bash had expected this reaction, but he had had to ask.

"Francis is the father of Lola's child. She is giving birth as we speak… in the village."

Mary sniffled, clearly trying to fight back the tears that were begging to be released. Bash was almost too taken aback to notice. Francis and Lola? He quickly did some mental math in his head, realizing that their relations must have taken place while Mary was engaged to himself. Francis had been in Paris.

"I… I'm a bit stunned to hear that. I take it this relationship took place while you and I were engaged?"

Mary's head shot up then, anger flashing instantly in her eyes. "Does that make it right? Was it right for him to sleep with one of my best friends just because we were not together?"

Bash considered this for a moment, and then said, "Well, it's no different from the relationship that we had, was it? Ours was even worse. I am Francis's brother."

They were daring words for him to say, but it was true. How could Mary be so angry, when she herself had cast Francis aside in the first place?

"Oh, please! It is absolutely different. First of all, I only became engaged to you for the good of my country," she paused then, perhaps knowing that these words would hurt him, but then went on "and besides, we never slept together."

Bash let out a laugh then, amazed by the absurdity of it all. "Indeed, I suppose I was too much of a gentleman to wait until we were wed. I should have taken you while I had the chance."

Mary gasped. He knew his words would shock her. He had probably gone too far - forgetting the fact that he was meant to be comforting her, not bringing up baggage from the past.

"Forgive me, your grace," he began, reverting back to the formality of their positions, "I know not what I say."

A silence hung between them for several seconds, neither quite knowing how to proceed. Bash tried to trace their conversation back to the start, and decided it was best to hear Mary out and respond in a way which would help her, not hurt her.

"Please, do go on. I'm assuming that Francis has left the castle in order to attend to Lola in the village?"

Mary nodded, not making any effort to say anything further. Bash knew he would have to draw her out a bit, to make her trust him once more.

"Mary, if Francis rides straight to where Lola is staying, I'm sure he will be safe from the pestilence," Bash said, knowing that, at the root of it all, Mary was afraid for Francis's life above all else.

His words seemed to have the opposite effect, for Mary choked back a sob, turning from him as her tears began to flow. Bash acted upon instinct, feeling responsible then for making her feel so scared, and so sad. Saying "Francis" and "pestilence" in the same sentence had no doubt conjured up terrible images in her mind.

He reached out to her - he could just barely reach from where he was sitting across from her - and pulled her into his arms. She went to him willingly, nearly falling into his embrace and he wrapped his arms around her body. She cried into his shirt, and his only thought was to keep her close to him, as a means of shielding her from the evil in the world. Bash was still seated, and Mary naturally fell into his lap in a deepening of their embrace.

After a few moments, Mary pulled back slightly, enough to look at him straight in the eye. She was still so close. The scent of lavender in her hair wafted up to his nose, and he felt her short, quick breaths on his neck. He felt as if he could drown in her. Why was she not pulling back?

And then, she did. Suddenly and quickly, standing up and rubbing her hands down the sides of her dress, as if to wipe their embrace clean from her body's memory. Bash stood up as well and looked down to the ground, unsure - as he usually was in her presence - of how to proceed.

"I… I'm sure you're right, Bash. I don't know what we'll do when he returns, for we really should not let anyone into the castle when there is such a threat of disease. But he is the King, after all."

Bash stepped forward once again, placing his hands on her upper arms, looking down at her as he had so many times before. "Everything will be fine, Mary. Francis is strong and he is smart. I am sure he will do everything he can to return to you safely."

Mary nodded, though began backing away from his touch. "I hope so. He is my husband, and the King of France. He is much needed here. I need him here," she said, pointedly looking Bash in the eyes as she did. Yes, she was certainly trying to get a point across. She was distancing herself from him physically and mentally.

And with that, Bash decided it was very much time to leave her be. "I will take my leave of you then, your grace, unless you require anything else?" he was being brutally formal, he knew, but she had made him feel it was necessary.

She stared after him as he began to back his way to the door, and Bash thought he could almost sense an internal struggle going on within. But, she eventually responded, with finality and purpose that no, she did not need him any more.


	4. Chapter 4

Mary felt exhausted. Her conversation with Bash had been the opposite of comforting. It had, instead, only added to her list of frustrations. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed having him close to her, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from teasing out his past feelings for her. Still, she wasn't entirely sure if he felt as strongly - or, indeed, if he felt anything at all anymore for her.

But his words, rough as they were, "I should have taken you while I had the chance," rang in her ears. She couldn't erase that part of the conversation from her mind. There was something animalistic in what he had said, and she should have slapped him for it. Instead, she felt her mouth curve up in a small smile as she replayed how he looked as he had said it. Part of her - a part she often buried deep and kept hidden - had regretted their lack of intimacy during their brief engagement. Sleeping with Francis before they had been married had awaken something new in her - it had opened up the door for her sexually. She had wanted to wait for Bash - but she remembered also feeling disappointed that he had not tried to do anything beyond kiss her.

She sat once again, splaying herself out across the settee, refilling her goblet. Her head was starting to spin, but it was only fitting to her mood. The memories practically made her dizzy. She thought back again, to just before she had left Bash - when she thought they would be married that day. "Don't plan on sleeping this night, wife," his words echoed in her brain. She had played it off at the time, acting as the timid virgin that she knew she wasn't. Inside, she was thrilled.

Mary sighed, shaking her head. It was pointless for her to sit here, reminiscing about a time that was so long gone. Besides, she had more important things to do than drink wine and sulk.

She decided it was best to summon a meeting with Nostradamus and Catherine, to strategize about what needed to be done to deal with the plague. In Francis's absence, someone had to take charge.

She walked quickly to Catherine's chambers, where she found Nostradamus already providing counsel. "The figures we have so far are not promising," he commented, "Already 100 deaths reported in the past two days in the village."

Mary swallowed hard, fear rising in her throat over the thought of Francis being in the midst of all this death. "What precautions can we take from here?"

Nostradamus shook his head, indicating there was little that could be done. "All we can really do is wait it out - there are no medicines I have that can be of any help. The local doctors in the village will know some means of easing the suffering, by attempting to pop the boils and so on."

"And what about Francis? He has ridden straight into the epidemic!" Catherine exclaimed. Mary was grateful for her concern - it was the one area in which they both felt strongly - Francis's wellbeing.

Nostradamus sighed, looking down at his hands before answering. "Normally, I would say no one should be let into the castle, especially those who have had contact with an infected area. But… he is the King of France. We should, of course, make an exception."

Mary was beyond delighted at his assessment. "That is what I feel as well, Nostradamus, but it is good to hear that you agree. Is there any danger that someone inside the castle is already infected?"

Nostradamus nodded. "Of course, we have constant contact with the village and the surrounding area. Our food comes from the surrounding farms. I would not be surprised if we did have an outbreak in the castle."

Both Catherine and Mary exchanged worried glances. Mary had never witnessed an outbreak of plague before, but she had heard plenty of stories about the ruthlessness of the disease. It spared no one, and it acted quickly, with many of its victims dying within days.

"What actions do you recommend we take, Nostradamus?"

Nostradamus considered the situation for a few seconds, and then calmly said "if anyone exhibits symptoms of any kind, bring them to me immediately. We will quarantine them in the west wing of the castle. If the disease has already made its way inside, it is likely those infected will show symptoms within the next few days."

"And… what? We just leave them, people from noble families, there to die?" Catherine asked, her voice becoming more and more frantic.

"The survival rate is low. I will do my best, but in all likelihood, anyone who sickens with the plague will succumb to it."

Mary paced the room, knowing that Nostradamus was right. All they could do is keep people calm, take their mind off of the sickness and encourage them to go about their daily business as much as possible.

"We should throw a ball," Mary said impulsively. It was the first thing that sprang into mind when she thought of providing a distraction.

"A ball? Is that your solution to everything, throw a party?" Catherine asked.

"It will take the plague off people's minds, make them feel more easy about the fact that they are locked indoors. They cannot go out to find entertainment, so let us bring the entertainment to them. We have all the resources here, do we not?"

Nostradamus nodded. "We may be short on food, but the kitchen staff can give us a better idea of the situation. It is a good idea to head off any sort of panic - some believe stress weakens the body and makes disease more likely to invade."

"Are you both mad?" Catherine chimed in, looking at each of them with incredulity. "You're suggesting a ball, where there is dancing and everyone is touching, and people inevitably end up in each others' beds that night? You think that is a good way to contain disease?"

Mary nearly burst out laughing at Catherine's description of a ball. "Catherine, we all live in the same quarters as it is. If there is an outbreak, we don't need a ball to help it spread."

"And besides," Mary added, before Catherine had a chance to respond, "I am the new Queen of France. We have a reason to celebrate."

Catherine glared at Mary, not missing the implication of her words, that Catherine was now only the Dowager Queen, and that she ultimately had to obey Mary. "Well, it will be a sad affair, as we will all be dressed in black. Or have you forgotten that Henry only just died?"

"The celebration will not just be for me. We will make a point to celebrate the life of Henry. I'm sure he would approve of us having a ball to do so - he always loved merriment, did he not?"

Catherine had no reply to this, and must have decided it wasn't worth arguing further. "Do what you will, then. This discussion has tired me out… if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take a nap."

Mary and Nostradamus took their cue to leave Catherine's chambers, and Mary was grateful for a moment alone with him. "How much danger do you think we are really in, Nostradamus?" she asked as Catherine's doors were closed behind them.

"I won't skirt around the issue, your grace. This is very deadly epidemic, and given statistics from the past, it's likely that at least some people from this castle will die," he said, looking down at her with grave eyes. "I just hope the King returns soon."

Mary looked down as she felt cheeks go red. It was difficult to hide her embarrassment, that her husband had left her at such a dire time. She would obviously have to face this if she were to hold a ball, without the King of France present.

"I take it Catherine told you where he went?" she asked, knowing full well that Catherine confided everything to her trusted advisor.

Nostradamus nodded. "I would have gone… to Lola, that is. It's just Catherine forbade it…" he trailed off, but Mary understood. Nostradamus' allegiance was to Catherine, and he would obey her above all else.

"It's fine," she said, putting a reassuring hand on his arm, not wanting to discuss the matter further. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must speak to the staff about planning this ball!"


	5. Chapter 5

***So sorry for the lack of updating! I will have another chapter up for you by later tonight :)**

Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he could feel the moisture dripping down his back. It wasn't that is was stifling hot in the small cottage. Francis had never been so nervous in his life. He had been on the battlefield before - he had seen men bleed out in front of him, suffering from agonizing pain as others tried, often in vain, to tend to their wounds. But none of that seemed quite so terrible as what he was witnessing now.

"The head is coming through now! Almost there, dear," Beatrice yelled from the other end of the small bed. Francis found it hard to believe that Lola was almost there - she had been pushing for hours now, to no avail. In her modest way, she had insisted that Francis stay stationed at her head, that he was not looking at what was going on below. He had been doing what he could for her - wiping her brow, holding her hand, and muttering encouraging words - though he himself was doubting how everything would turn out.

Lola squeezed his hand tightly, and he could tell she was pushing with every bit of strength she had left. Amazingly, she bit her lip instead of screaming. He hoped it wasn't for his benefit. He squeezed her hand back, bringing his face close to hers. "You can do this, Lola. Bring our child into this world."

And with that, it was done. He heard Beatrice announce loudly that she had done it, and he looked over to see her handling a bloody bundle. Lola let her head fall back on to the pillow, finally allowing herself to relax.

The baby let out a tiny wail, which Francis felt right to his very core. Their baby was alive - alive and yelping. For a moment, he almost forgot to wonder what the sex was.

After cutting the umbilical cord, Beatrice spent several moments washing the child in water, still not uttering a word. Francis had turned to Lola, who, while laying back, was breathing steadily and seemed slightly recovered from her ordeal.

"Is the child all right?" Francis asked, after noticing that it was silence that followed the initial small noise that he had heard moments earlier. Was it still breathing?

Beatrice turned around then, with the baby clearly cleaned and wrapped in cloths. Francis had to hold back his own tears as he saw his baby's face for the first time.

She walked over, smiling and handed the baby to Francis. "It is a boy, your grace."

A boy. He had not hoped one way or the other when he found out that he had a child on the way, but he couldn't deny his joy over the news that he had a son.

Gingerly, he took the baby from Beatrice's arms, cradling him in his own. He was sleeping now, but breathing deeply. He certainly wasn't a frail thing, and Francis marveled at the fact that Lola had just pushed this baby out of her moments ago.

Slowly, he turned and looked down at Lola, who was smiling up at him, tears rolling down her face. She reached up to begin wiping them away, seemingly embarrassed. Francis knelt down next to her, holding their son up so she could see.

"No need to cry, Lola. You have borne us a healthy baby boy."

Lola nodded, smiling at the baby. "I want to sit up a bit… I'm yearning to hold him."

Francis and Beatrice helped prop Lola up on the pillows and she took her baby in her arms and kissed him on the forehead. "Hello there…" she said quietly, "hello, my little darling."

"What shall we call him?" Francis asked, kneeling down beside her once again. As the initial shock and elation was wearing off, he realized that he wanted to stop referring to his son by pronoun as soon as possible.

"I was thinking, perhaps… Henry. After your father."

Francis started to smile, admiring how thoughtful Lola was, to want to honor his family in such a way. But his smile quickly faded to a frown, as he remembered how he last knew his father. How could he name his son after a father he had killed himself? The whole thought disgusted him, made him want to rip his brains out to erase the entire memory.

"I… would rather not, Lola. My father was a great man, but a rather unstable man late in life, and I fear it would bring back bad memories," he said, hoping this explanation would make some sort of sense.

But Lola nodded, indicating that she understood completely. "Of course, how silly of me! Please, I want you to choose his name. I want to tell him one day that the King of France named him."

Her words shook him, bringing him back down to reality and reminding him that yes, he was King of France now. And just like his father… having a bastard child before a legitimate heir.

It stung him, the fact that, while he was happy, he could not be as happy as he wished to be, because Lola was not his wife. She wasn't Mary. He couldn't even imagine how ecstatic he would be at the birth of Mary's first child, at the start of their family. This boy would never have a family, in the true sense of the word. He would always come second.

But he forced himself to push those thoughts aside for now, thoughts he knew Lola had probably already mulled over many times for the past nine months. He did not want to spoil this day, particularly not for Lola, who was, arguably, in a worse position than he was.

"How about Nicolas?" Francis asked, the name suddenly popping into his head. Though it was not anything meaningful, he had always liked the name, and as he looked down at the baby, he thought it suited him.

Lola smiled. "Yes… Nicolas. I'll call him Nico, for short."

She looked lovely then, holding their child, with such incredible love in her eyes that Francis was deeply touched. He didn't think anything about reaching out to cradle her neck and force her to look up at him, so that he could kiss her. And he did kiss her - gently, but firmly. She did not deny him.

He looked her straight in the eyes when he pulled away. "No matter what happens in the future, you will always be the mother of my son. Do not forget that. You have a permanent place in my life and at my court."

She smiled warily at him, and he wondered if she believed him or not. "We can talk of this later, Francis. You should go back to the castle - Mary needs you."

He was not surprised that she had brought up Mary, as if she wanted to remind him of her. "My place is with you right now," he said. "We will ride back together when you are fit for the journey." He did not know what they would do about accommodations, given that they had taken over Beatrice's small lodgings, but he would worry about that later.

Lola nodded, and after a short time, began to fall into a slumber. Francis took Nico from her, who had also now fallen asleep. For that moment, he forgot about Mary, about the plague, and about his kingship, and simply focused on the love he bore for the child in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Mary had spent the remainder of her day planning a ball for that evening. Understandably, the kitchen staff did not hide their thoughts on her notion. The head cook had clucked his tongue, commenting that he had assumed they would be trying to manage their food stock more carefully, rather than squander it. Still, she pressed on, determined to provide the court with something to distract them from the pestilence lurking at their doors.

She chose her gown carefully. She knew was going to have to overcome the fact that Francis would not be present, and the people of the court were not ones to shy away from gossip. She wanted to appear confident, calm, and, above all, royal. She did not need Francis there with her - or, at least, that is what she told herself.

"The red silk damask, Greer," she said, as her Scottish lady assisted her that evening in getting ready for the big event. "I need a color which will give me confidence tonight."

Greer nodded, fetching the gown from Mary's oversized wardrobe. "The red is particularly striking on you. And how would you like to wear your hair?"

"Down, I think, in soft curls. But I'll need my best tiara for this evening," she stopped a moment, suddenly realizing that her friend who was best at helping with hair styling was missing. "Where is Kenna?"

Greer blushed, looking down at her feet before answering her. "She… uh… well I was doing needlework with her earlier, but then Bash came by and was quite insistent that she go back to their rooms…"

Mary couldn't help keeping herself from blushing as well, her earlier run in with Bash still fresh on her mind. "I see," she replied, somewhat coldly. She was aware that she was a bit jealous - not because of Bash, though, but because Francis was not with her. Besides that, she couldn't think of too many times that her and Francis had stolen to their bedchamber in the middle of the day.

"Well, we'll have to make do without her, I suppose," Mary said calmly, trying her best not to betray any kind of emotion. But Greer knew her better than that.

"Mary, we never did talk about Kenna's marriage to Bash and how that might affect you. It's normal if you still have feelings for him."

Mary shook her head. "That's nonsense, Greer. I was only ever engaged to Bash for political reasons." It was not entirely a lie. She left out the part about her fondness for Bash, and any feelings that had developed between them during their short relationship.

Greer sighed and began to brush Mary's hair. "I'm just saying, you can open up to me if you want. It's never easy to see an ex-lover in the arms of another, let alone a friend, no matter how long ago your relationship was."

"We were never lovers!" Mary blurted out, her eyes turning fierce, causing Greer to nearly jump back from the dressing table. "I'll hear no more talk of this, Greer. I want only to think of the future, and we must make ready for tonight."

Greer said little else for the remainder of the evening.

Mary sat tall as she surveyed her guests in front of her. She had made it clear to the servants that she wanted Francis's throne removed from the dais, while hers was positioned in the center. She knew it was bold, and Catherine had not waited long before reproaching her for such a move. "You are acting as if Francis does not exist! As if you rule France in your own right," she had said. Mary was not trying to send such a message, of course, but she also refused to draw attention to an empty seat beside her.

The room was bustling with excitement, though, and no one seemed concerned about Francis's absence, much to Mary's delight. Music filled the hall, and the kitchens had managed to present a fine feast. The plague which loomed mere miles from them seemed to have been forgotten, at least for this night.

As Mary watched the dancing going on in front of her, Kenna approached her from the side of the room. "Your grace," she bowed ceremoniously, before approaching her friend to speak.

"Lady Kenna, please, come stand by me."

Kenna nodded, coming to stand close by Mary's side. "Forgive me, I know I was absent this afternoon. It's just that Bash and I…"

"Yes, it was not easy to get ready with only one lady by my side," Mary replied sharply. Not only had Kenna not been there when Mary was preparing to get ready, but she had never even shown up at all.

Kenna's face turned to one of bewilderment, clearly surprised that Mary was upset at all. "I am sorry. I got caught up…" she trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Caught up with Bash in between your legs?"

Kenna gasped. "Mary, please! He… he would not take no for an answer."

Mary found that her anger was only getting worse. How dare Kenna neglect her responsibilities, was she forgetting that Mary was not just her friend, but also her sovereign? She knew she had to calm down, to not get angry with Kenna in public, but she couldn't help herself.

"Bash may be king in your bed, Kenna, but he is not the King of France. You serve me, remember." The words were harsh, she knew, but she unable to put a lid on her frustration.

Kenna stood speechless for a moment, before backing away with a quick curtsey and a mumble of "my queen."

Mary was unsurprised when she saw Kenna walk straight to Bash. She was even less surprised when she saw Bash's cool stare in her direction. It hardly mattered to her, though. Let them be angry. She had bigger worries at the moment.

She instead turned her attention to Lord Arran, one of her Scottish subjects who happened to be visiting the French court, though at a rather unfortunate time. "Lord Arran," she beckoned him to rise. He was an older gentleman whose athleticism seemed not to have wavered over the years. He was tall and strong, with no limps or other visible ailments which so often afflicted her elder subjects.

"Will your grace honor me in joining me for the next dance?" he asked. She nodded, responding that she had been wanting to dance all evening.

Lord Arran led her out to the center of the floor as the musicians struck up a new song. She smiled as they placed their palms together and began to circle around each other. It should have been Francis here with her, of course, but she couldn't think about that now. She had organized this ball so that the people would forget about the troubles around them, and that should include herself as well.

"I fear you have come to France at an unfortunate time, my lord," Mary commented as they spun around the room.

"Indeed, your grace, and I arrived just three days ago. Truth to be told, however, I came with the purpose to visit my queen, and the plague has thankfully not kept me from doing so."

"Do you bring any news for me, my lord? My mother and brother do keep me well informed, but I always welcome updates from my subjects as well."

"I am afraid I do not have much to tell you, my queen. Arran is a bit tucked away, as you can imagine, and so I am largely kept out of the political realm."

How idyllic, Mary thought to herself. "I confess I know little of Arran. I hear it is a beautiful island, though, full of rolling hills and sandy beaches."

Before Lord Arran could respond, Bash appeared suddenly at their side. "I do apologize, my lord, but do you mind if I cut in? I have a few urgent matters to discuss with her grace."

Mary could have punched him right there. She knew very well that he had no urgent matters to discuss - that is, she did not consider her words with Kenna to be urgent. But Lord Arran had graciously stepped aside, so she played along in order to avoid embarrassment.

Her and Bash walked quickly to the corridor outside the hall, and she rounded on him as soon as they were out of sight. "How dare you pull me away like that! Lord Arran is an important figure from my country, what is so important that you must discuss it with me now?"

Bash glared right back at her. "I don't care if you are Queen, I won't sit back and let you speak to my wife in the way that you did."

She didn't realize how much hearing the words "your wife" would distress her, but it did. And it did not make her any more sympathetic to Kenna. "She neglected her duties. I cannot treat her differently that I would treat any other lady of mine."

"That is a lie and you know it. Kenna is one of your closest friends. At least, she was until she married me, I suppose."

Mary gasped at his bluntness. "Oh, of course, you think this is about you," she said, shaking her head, but avoiding his gaze. She knew in her heart it was partly about him, and she couldn't think of what to say next.

"Isn't it, Mary?" he asked, moving closer to her, so that they were mere inches apart.

The screaming inside the hall distracted them both. Several high pitched screams rang throughout, and Bash and Mary rushed back in to find Lord Arran collapsed on the ground.

"Keep her grace away!" shouted Nostradamus, bent over the man's body, with a cloth held up to his own face for protection.

The hall filtered out quickly after that, with Bash leading her far away from the scene, despite her protestations. Lord Arran was one of her people, she had to ensure his safety. But her pleadings fell on deaf ears and she was practically pushed into her chambers.

Bash closed the door behind them and put his hand on Mary's forehead. "Are you all right? Do you feel sick at all? My god, you were dancing with him earlier."

Mary began to process then what was happening. Her mind went back to the image of Lord Arran slumped on the ground, sweating and unconscious. He had contracted plague. And he had danced with her, kissed her hand, breathed in her face.

Mary's eyes went wide and she looked at Bash, his brows furrowed in concern. "I… I feel fine right now, but I wouldn't show symptoms so soon…"

She had to send him away, lest he be infected as well. "You must go, you cannot stay any longer in my presence. No one can come into my presence."

Bash shook his head, "no, I can't leave you. You are clearly distressed."

Mary pulled away from his grasp as her eyes began to water. "It is not your responsibility to comfort me, Bash, please."

"You think I give a damn about that? I won't leave you."

She was surprised by his change in attitude, when just several moments earlier he had been so angry with her. But she could see the care and concern in his eyes, and, truthfully, she did not want him to leave.

But she also did not want to jeopardize his health. "Given my contact with Lord Arran, it would be better for you to stay away from me, Bash. Think of your wife." Her words had a double meaning, she knew.

Bash looked at the floor for several long moments, and Mary thought for sure he would decide to leave after all. But instead, he walked slowly over to her, until they were inches apart once more. "Don't speak of her," he whispered, placing his hands gently on her waist.

Her breath caught, and she felt so dizzy for a moment she thought she might faint. But she had to pull herself away.

"Bash, I…. I need to see Nostradamus, and Catherine. I need to determine what actions to take next."

He backed away then, this time understanding. "We will talk later, yes?"

She swallowed hard, knowing she couldn't refuse him. "Yes… later."


	7. Chapter 7

***Note: Sorry it has been forever since I updated! Eek. I had some serious writers' block but I'm back now! Also sorry for the formatting errors on the first draft of this – not sure what happened there but this should work :)**

Three days passed before Lola felt well enough to travel. She was still unbelievably sore, but she knew they could not take up Beatrice's lodgings forever. Besides that, she feared staying in such close quarters with Francis much longer. She couldn't deny that, despite her discomfort, the past few days had been blissful. Beatrice tended to stay out of sight, allowing Lola, Francis and their newborn to spend quality time together. They had played games, told stories, and made faces with Nico. It was as if they were a true family.

They had not received any word from the court, which Francis brought up one day with a look of concern on his face. "I know they will have put the castle on lockdown, but still, you would have thought they would want to send word to me about the state of the pestilence…" he trailed off a bit, adding "I am surprised Mary has not written."

Hearing Mary's name jolted Lola back to reality. "We must leave tomorrow, Francis. Your presence is surely missed and Mary must be worried sick over you. You are the King of France… surely there must be matters you need to attend to."

"Listen to you… you sound like one of my advisors," Francis chuckled. "But there is wisdom in your words. Are you sure you are well enough to travel though"

"I will be fine, don't worry," Lola replied, though honestly she was unsure of how fine she would actually be. But she was willing to grit through the pain to get Francis back where he belonged.

They left early the next morning, setting off together on the horse Francis had rode there. They rode slowly, with Lola sitting in front of Francis with their child in her arms. The pain she felt was striking - just moving about was hard enough, let alone sitting astride a horse. But she was comforted by the closeness of Francis's body behind her. While she knew her thoughts were wrong, she couldn't help how his companionship made her feel.

When they arrived at the castle gates, Lola suddenly became apprehensive. "What if they don't let us pass?" she asked, weary that they might let Francis through but refuse her and her son entry.

Francis leaned down and whispered in her ear, "do you forget my position, my lady?" he asked, and she shivered at his closeness. "They'll do whatever I tell them to do, worry not."

The guards did indeed let them through, immediately recognizing that the king had returned. As soon as they were through the gates, Francis began to bark out orders. "Fetch Mrs. Nellis to attend to Lady Lola and my son!" and "Where is the Queen? Tell her I'd like to see her in my chambers."

The poor page ran after the king, desperately trying to get his attention before more orders were given. "Your majesty, the Queen is locked up in her chambers and has not left, as suggested by Nostradamus. The plague has struck and has claimed ten lives already."

Lola gasped, hoping she hadn't heard him correctly. Ten deaths? Did he mean ten deaths within the village, perhaps

"Ten deaths… here, in the castle?" Francis asked, his mind apparently processing the information just as hers had.

"Yes, your majesty. It started with the visitor, Lord Arran, and has spread from there. Mostly servants, my king, but everyone is being cautious."

Francis immediately thanked the page and turned to Lola. "Come with me, we will go see Mary together."

Lola wanted nothing of the sort. The plague scared her, and she felt for Mary, having to deal with an infected castle on her own. But she may be even more scared of how Mary would react to seeing her together with Francis and their child. She wanted to avoid the meeting as long as possible.

"Please, Francis, perhaps I should just go to my chamber, and stay out of the way."

Francis took her hand in his, shaking his head. "Please, don't be frightened. I want Mary to see that we are both okay. Despite this strange situation, she does still care about you, you know."

Lola wasn't so sure, but she knew there was no point in arguing, so she followed him through the empty castle halls to Mary's rooms.

Francis knocked twice before announcing himself loudly. The door opened to reveal Mary, dressed simply in a plain grey gown and her hair down and unstyled. No doubt no one had been waiting on her for the past few days.

Lola could clearly see the disappointed in Mary's face when she saw that she was standing there as well, with a newborn in her arms. But she said nothing except "you have heard, then, the castle is infected?"

Francis nodded slowly. "We just arrived and the page below informed us. I wanted you to see that Lola and the child are okay, that's all. You and I may speak privately now, if that's okay."

Mary nodded, avoiding Lola's gaze. Lola sighed and bid them both goodbye as she walked away down the hall alone. She felt a wave of sadness creep over her and she realized it was just her and Nico now. Although Francis's words had been kind, about her always having a place at Court, she knew she would never feel truly welcome because of Mary - and she didn't blame her. The birth of her child had brought up so many emotions for her regarding Francis. Though their intimacy had been brief, she remembered it like it was yesterday. She would have to try hard to push these thoughts from her mind, at least while she remained living in the castle. She did not want to want what she couldn't have


	8. Chapter 8

"Would you like to explain why you felt it necessary to parade Lola and your bastard in front of me?" Mary asked Francis, wasting no time in questioning him as soon as he had shut the door.

Amazingly, he seemed shocked by her outburst. "Are you so uncaring? Forgive me for assuming you might be wondering how your friend was doing - you know, the one who just gave birth without a midwife in the middle of nowhere?"

Mary sighed. She did care about Lola, of course. That didn't mean it didn't hurt to see evidence of Lola and Francis's relationship in front of her. "So, you may as well tell me - boy or girl?"

Francis stared at her a moment, likely trying to decipher if her question was some sort of test. "It is a boy. We have named him Nicolas… Nico for short."

Mary swallowed a lump that was forming in her throat, begging herself to not appear weak in front of him. "Very well, then. I am glad everyone is healthy. I'm afraid we have the opposite scenario here… I have been dealing with quite the crisis since you've been gone."

Francis nodded, stepping forward to embrace her. Although she was angry with him, she also couldn't help how relieved she felt that he had returned. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, burrowed her face into his chest and let out a deep sigh.

"Mary, I know I have put you through hell. I understand what it must be like to see me with Lola and the baby. But you must know that you are the only woman in my heart. What happened with Lola was a mistake, and while she will always be the mother of my child, she will never be my wife and my queen."

His words were comforting. She knew she would always be weary of Lola, but she also knew she needed Francis by her side right now. There were more important matters to deal with.

She pulled back and kissed him deeply, to let him know she understood. It felt so good to be held again - after the terror she had witnessed over these past few days. She had followed Nostradamus's recommendation to stay in her chambers. Only one maid was allowed to enter, to bring food that only she had prepared. Mary heard little of her friends and only received brief reports from Nostradamus on how the castle population was faring. They had lost 10 lives so far, with Lord Arran being the most noble of them all. She felt she was going mad in her room by herself, but the dangers of continued infection still lingered.

She felt him start to pull away, but she quickly stopped him, deepening their kiss and running her hands down his back. She was surprised at her actions but knew that she craved his touch. She needed to feel him want her, to help her shut out any dark thoughts about the plague that threatened them.

To her dismay, he pulled away again. "Mary, as much as I'm enjoying this, I need to call a council meeting to discuss next steps for fighting this pestilence… please.." he said, unwrapping her arms from his body and stepping back.

She felt crushed and utterly rejected. Of course she understood his urgency, but could the council really not wait a bit longer? He had already been gone for days already, thanks to his own actions.

But she decided it was best not to argue, knowing that there was little point in doing so. Instead she nodded. "I'll join you shortly, then… I'd like to make myself presentable first."

Mary knew she hid her anger well and she waited until Francis had left to down a goblet of wine. She had been drinking quite a bit since the plague had come, unsure of what else to do in her room on her own while her husband was off elsewhere. After allowing the alcohol to course through her system, she decided on a different plan of action. Why should she sit in on a council meeting with Francis, when she had been running the realm on her own in his absence? It was his turn to deal with the chaos.

Instead of making herself presentable, she poured herself another glass and walked out the door.

Bash was running out of ways to find entertainment for himself and Kenna. After being cooped up for days, they had already played every card game they both knew and they soon grew tired of the activity. They had grown tired of each other, too, Bash would argue. He had made love to her countless times, partly fueled by desire but also fueled by his own fear that people were dying around them, yet they were still alive.

It had now gotten to the point where neither of them was that interested in the other. Bash was finding it to be too much effort to even think of any stories to tell to fill the time.

While Kenna lay napping in their bed, Bash retreated to the window, contemplating sneaking outside for a few moments to clear his mind. The first thing he noticed was that it had started to drizzle, and he almost decided to abandon the idea of going outdoors until he saw a figure moving through the hedges and out to the field beyond.

It was a woman, looking somewhat in distress. As she reached the clearing, she held her arms out to the side and began spinning around. It was only once she turned her face up to the sky that Bash realized it was Mary.

What was she doing outside? No doubt she had a similar thought to Bash about getting out for a few moments, though arguably Mary was in a more delicate position than Bash and should take more care. He hadn't seen her at all since the night Lord Arran had taken ill. He knew he had almost taken things too far that night. And she had stopped him, right enough.

He could have ignored her, let her have her peace outside without being disturbed by him. But he couldn't help himself. Telling himself he was concerned for her health, he slipped on his boots and quietly left the room, careful to not wake his sleeping wife.

The rain had started to intensify as he stepped outside. With the halls being deserted, it had been easy to get out without anyone noticing. But he wasn't entirely sure that no one else was looking out their window to see their queen dancing in the rain. It didn't exactly paint the best picture.

"Mary!" he yelled, running up to her. She turned immediately to face him, and he saw that she was also carrying an empty wine goblet. Ah, so that helps explain some of it, he thought to himself. She was also wearing a plain grey gown, with a lack of embellishment that was unusual for her. But she looked beautiful nonetheless.

Her eyes went wide when she saw him, and for a moment he wondered if the water running down her face was rain or tears. Either way, her expression was clearly one of distress.

"Come inside, Mary, you'll only increase your chance of catching the plague by standing out here in the rain."

"Why does he not want me?"

Bash hesitated. So it was problems with Francis that had driven her outdoors. He wondered at how Francis could stay away for so long. While he understood Lola's difficult situation, he also felt Francis was failing in his duty as King… and as a husband.

Bash reached out and took Mary's hand, which by this time felt freezing. "Mary, you know he had to go to Lola. It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. You know he'll be back as soon as he's able… you're his queen…"

Before he could continue, Mary cut him off. "He IS back! He's back but barely has time to say hello to me. I figured when your wife throws herself at you, you respond accordingly! You don't think about the council meeting!"

Bash was thoroughly confused at this point, but as the rain continued to pour down, he decided his first priority should be getting them indoors. "Come, let's find somewhere to sit inside and then we can talk."

She nodded this time and followed him to a side entrance to the castle. He knew this particular door led to a set of rooms that were not often used, and he just hoped he'd be able to build a fire in one of them so they would be comfortable enough.

"Where are we going?" Mary asked as she followed Bash down the corridor, sniffling from the chill she must finally be starting to feel.

"I used to come here as a child. Francis and I would play hide and seek around these rooms. They're never used as they're slightly more dingey than the chambers at the other end of the castle. But they all have fireplaces and usually some wood stocked nearby."

They entered one of the rooms at the far end of the hall, and Mary commented in amazement that she had never been in any of these rooms before. Sure enough, it had a full bed, which looked like it was covered in a layer of dust, several settes and a large fireplace, fortunately with a stack of wood next to it. It was not nearly as grand as the chambers their guests slept in, but it had all the necessities.

Bash immediately went to start a fire as Mary went to test out one of the settes. "Why don't you grab one of those blankets off the bed? I'm afraid you're going to catch some kind of chill and this is not the time for your body to be weakened in any way."

"They are so dirty, though! I am fine, really," Mary insisted, though he saw she was using all her strength to keep her teeth from chattering.

As soon as he got the fire started, he took matters into his own hands and grabbed a blanket off of the bed, shaking it out thoroughly to remove as much dust as possible before placing it around Mary's shoulders. She didn't protest, but looked up sheepishly and nodded her thanks as she wrapped the blanket securely around herself.

"Now, back to the matter at hand. Francis is back, you say?"

Mary sighed and looked toward the fire. He could tell she was hesitant to discuss it, but he would pry harder if he had to. Francis had clearly done something to upset her.

She looked up at him now with a hard expression on her face. "Yes, he arrived back not more than an hour ago. With Lola, and their new son, which Francis made sure to show me."

Bash shook his head. Sometimes he didn't understand how his brother's mind worked.

"But that's not the worst of it. I…. I wanted comfort from him. I have been alone for these past few days, terrified and unsure of where my husband was. Then he comes back and he's just…" she trailed off, looking away from him once more.

"It's okay, you can tell me, Mary," he said, now taking her hand in his. He could sense her unease and wanted to make her feel as comfortable and safe as possible.

"He didn't want me. Meeting with his council was more important," she said, taking her hand from his and suddenly standing up to pace the room. "I mean, does Kenna ever throw herself at you?" she asked brazenly.

Bash was a bit taken aback by her question. "Uhh.. well... "

Mary shook her head and interjected before he could come up with a suitable answer. "Don't answer that! My point is, would you really ever refuse your wife after not seeing her for days in the middle of a plague outbreak?"

God, she looked gorgeous. No, he could not understand how Francis could refuse her, under any circumstances. Maybe he didn't fully understand the responsibilities of a king, but he would put off any meeting to be close to this woman.

Bash stood up then as well, but maintained his distance from her. "I can't understand why any man would refuse you, ever."

He knew it was a bold thing to say. Perhaps he should have tried to convince her that Francis had his reasons, and that none of it had to do with her, that his mind must have been weighed down by the crisis at the court. He could have said that and it would have sounded reasonable. But he was too angry to be rationale.

Mary laughed in response as she moved to circle him. "And what have you and Kenna been doing to occupy the time while held up in your chambers? Given how you sometimes act in the middle of the day during normal times I bet I can guess what you've been up to."

He was a bit stunned by this remark, unsure if she was trying to insult him or not. "Well, we are married, your majesty."

He knew throwing in the formal address would throw her off, and it did. She looked away and cleared her throat, obviously unsure of what to say next. He knew she didn't really want to talk about his love life with Kenna, so what was she getting at?

She moved toward him now, and he almost instinctively took a step back, suddenly afraid of what she might do. She stopped mere inches from him, her head coming to his chin, but she didn't look up.

"You were right, Bash," she whispered, still averting her gaze, but raising her head just enough so that her whispered breath fell on his neck. "You should have taken me when you had the chance."


End file.
